


Out of the rain

by seriousfic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Episode: s04e07 The Snow Queen, F/F, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-02-25 09:37:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2617136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seriousfic/pseuds/seriousfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma just wants to be left alone and not die. She figures Regina can return her the favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Regina loved a rainy day. She was self-aware enough to know it had a lot to do with the satisfaction she took in seeing everyone else spoiled for a bright, cheerful day. Their picnics were ruined, they ran for their cramped little homes, while she reclined by a blazing fire in her manor and listened to the thunder, the rain, the gushing wind. Oh, it was heavenly. Sure, she was a cliché, but she came by it honestly.

 

A good book—something with no romance—a glass of merlot, and a warm fire. Nothing could ruin that.

 

Someone knocked at the door.

 

Regina had forgotten where she lived.

 

She answered the door to find a drowned rat. One with blonde hair.

 

“Ms. Swan,” she said cheerily, “I know I’ve always said you didn’t have enough sense to come in out of the rain…”

 

“You can let me in, ‘Gina. You owe me that much.”

 

Regina shrugged and stepped out of the way. Emma hustled inside, huddling in on herself under a rumpled, waterlogged jacket. Regina actually felt some sympathy for her. Must’ve been the wine.

 

“Let’s get you out of those wet clothes,” she said, closing the door behind her. And locking it. “I can’t have you _dripping_ all over my Berlin marble.”

 

“Yeah.” Emma was still hugging herself. And shivering. “Sure.”

 

Not anything about _I’m sure I don’t have the ass for any of your dresses._ Or even _I just came out of the rain in a white shirt, you’re the one that’s dripping._ They were right there. It was almost rude, not saying something.

 

With a harrumph, Regina walked past Emma, gesturing her to follow as ardently as she’d cast a spell. Emma trailed after her—dripping on the Berlin marble—all the way to her bedroom. By the time she was through the door, Regina had set out some dry clothes for her. Emma picked them up off the bed. A ‘Walk Off Cancer 10K Fundraiser’ T-shirt and a pair of jeans with the knees worn out.

 

She started out of her own clothes. “Let me guess, this is one of the outfits you keep around for a strapping young man to rip you out of?”

 

That was more like it. “I do gardening in them, so as far as you’re concerned, they’re evening wear.” While Emma was dressing, Regina examined herself in the mirror. Hair, fine, make-up, fine, breasts, wonderful. Of course they were. Why wouldn’t they be?

 

“You know I don’t actually have a penis, right?” Emma asked, hopping into Regina’s jeans. “Despite all the jokes…”

 

“I never said you had a penis, merely that I wouldn’t be surprised—“

 

“I haven’t got anything you haven’t seen before,” Emma assured her, muffled by the shirt she was pulling on. “You can stare all you want.”

 

“I am. But why look at the second most beautiful woman in the room?” Regina turned away from the mirror. “Actually, come to think of it, I may have a magazine with a cover story on Jennifer Lawrence somewhere—Ms. Swan!”

 

“What?” Emma asked, wringing out her hair.

 

Regina nodded her head at the floor. Emma’s pants, shirt, and jacket were in puddles on it, along with a set of bra and panties.

 

“Give me five seconds, I’ll hang ‘em up, geez…”

 

“And your underwear?”

 

“They were wet. _Don’t say it_.”

 

“Oh, anything I could possibly say would take distant second to you _pulling a Lindsey Lohan_ in my clothes.”

 

“Relax, your highness, my nipples aren’t even hard.”

 

“Why is it that every time I do you a favor, you feel the need to make me end up—“

 

“ _Could we just not?”_ Emma’s hand was held up, as straight and strong as if she were about to do magic, and Regina’s eyes traveled from her solid grip on the air, down her unshaking arm, to eyes that hadn’t gotten any dryer since she’d come in.

 

She said nothing.

 

Emma huffed. “ _Look,_ I don’t want to deal with Mary-Margaret, or David, or Killian, _any of them._ I just want to be left alone and—not catch pneumonia. I figure you’d be eager to return the favor. That and not kill me.”

 

“No promises,” Regina said. “Come on, I have a fire going.”

 

***

 

 _Do not,_ Regina told herself. Do not look at Emma Swan shivering by the fire, too drawn in on herself to even hold her hands up to the flame, and feel sorry for her. Her, who had everything. Who _took_ everything, took Henry and Robin, whose mother took her mother, whose family took her kingdom and her curse and probably even her sister. Do not try to ingratiate yourself with her. Do not care about her. Just let her suffer alongside you. It’s what both of you deserve.

 

Regina found herself making hot chocolate, found herself filling two cups, found herself bringing one to Emma.

 

But there were no marshmallows in it.

 

“Tell me,” she said.

 

“Suddenly you want to hear my troubles?”

 

“I could use a good laugh.”

 

Emma finally pulled out of the fetal position she’d locked herself in, extending on hand to the fire. “I lost control of my magic. Just like the Snow Queen said I would. I blew a hole in the police station… made my entire family fear me… nearly killed Hook…”

 

“See? It’s not all that bad.”

 

Regina got the sense that Emma was angry with herself for the smile she gave. Good. “You heard already?”

 

“I wanted to hear it from you. It’s good that you can talk about it. You’ll be able to tell someone who cares.”

 

Emma nodded to herself. Took her hot chocolate. “I don’t think I could stand someone caring about me right now. Trying to make up to me for… whatever. Being in jail wasn’t the greatest, but at least you could keep your head down, stay in your cell, not have to… lance every boil.”

 

Something in Regina was seething, steaming, and she knew it was time to leave. “Not to compare scars—but I would’ve given a lot to have my mother afraid of me.”

 

“It’s not awesome,” Emma said lowly.

 

***

 

She had nothing better to do. Henry would be proud of her. The woman was her only ally. Reasons flittered through Regina’s head as she heated up the water, poured the spaghetti in, started in on the seasoning. Halfway through cooking the meatball, Emma came in, looking a great deal dryer.

 

Regina stirred the sauce. “Smells good, doesn’t it?”

 

“I just thought I’d get more wood for the fire.”

 

“Would you like me to find you a flannel jacket?”

 

Emma ignored her, leaving through the backdoor, returning a few minutes later with an armful of logs. “It does smell good,” she said in passing as she trudged over to the fire in the other room.

 

Regina hemmed and hawed and thought about how ridiculous it was, playing host to a _princess_ who would be welcomed with open arms into just about any house in the township. But no, she, _she_ had to be inconvenienced and make room for this interloper, just like she’d always done, _and after_ Emma had ruined her life countless times, accused her of murder, punched her in the face, stolen her lover…

 

Regina kept trying to make herself resent Emma, but the anger was so far away. Idly, she took the hand that wasn’t holding a wooden spoon and summoned up a fireball. She could be hateful over her circumstances, her world, all the things that had always vexed her—just not about Emma.

 

Hissing, she set a minor spell to keep the spoon stirring and went to find Emma. The rain had died, but there was still a wintery chill outside, and Emma was on her ass in front of the fire, warming herself back up.

 

“Do you want garlic bread?”

 

“What?” Emma asked, about as confused as she’d been when Regina had tried to explain magic to her.

 

Regina explained things as if Emma had failed to grasp how a rabbit came out of a top hat. “If I make garlic bread, it’ll be too much for just me. I was making spaghetti and meatballs, but those can go in the refrigerator as leftovers. But I’m not going to have leftover garlic bread, because it doesn’t taste any good, so if I make some, you’d better want half of it.”

 

Emma was staring now. “You are just… such a mom.”

 

“It happens when a tiny person lives with you for eleven years after they’re born. _Garlic bread._ Yes or no?”

 

“Yes. Please.” Emma shrugged. “Thank you.”

 

“You’ll want some of the spaghetti as well, I suspect.”

 

“I’m not…” Emma’s stomach grumbled. Regina guessed that Emma hadn’t done her brooding somewhere within walking distance of a pastry shop, which surprised her. “ _I could eat._ ”

 

“Very well.”

 

***

 

Regina didn’t feel lonely. She and Emma weren’t _talking,_ certainly, weren’t making eye contact, weren’t playing footsie, were just eating at the same table and might as well not exist as far as the other was concerned. But Regina didn’t feel as lonely as she did eating by herself. It was strange.

 

“This is really good.”

 

Regina looked at Emma, about to chastise her for talking with her mouth full, but Emma was just wiping off her lips with a napkin. ”Thank you.”

 

“You should do a cooking show.”

 

“What?”

 

“Public access.” Emma nodded. “You put on a nice dress, you get in front of a camera, you show Storybrooke how to bake things. If the outside world can have the Barefoot Contessa, we can have the High-Heeled Evil Queen.”

 

Regina pursed her lips. “I’ll do it.”

 

“What, seriously?”

 

“If you call your parents.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes. “ _Such_ a mom.”

 

“They must be worried. You would be too, if Henry were gone.”

 

“If Henry were my age, I’d trust him to look after himself.”

 

“If Henry were _my_ age, I’d still want to know he was alright. And I’m…” Regina did the calculations in her head. Her life in the Enchanted Kingdom, her time in Storybrooke, her time with Henry which was so different from how it’d been before that it seemed… Anyway, she decided to stop doing the calculations. “Older than you.”

 

“But looks aren’t everything.”

 

Regina narrowed her eyes. “I’m not saying you have to pour out your feelings for Mary-Margaret to bathe in. Just leave a message. Send a text.”

 

“She doesn’t have texts.”

 

Regina blinked. “She doesn’t have texts?”

 

“You’re the one who trapped this town in, like, the eighties. Everyone here has a flip-phone. She doesn’t even know how to use the MP3 player.”

 

“What’s an MP3?”

 

Emma sighed. “The only way to contact her is to call her phone. And, since she’ll be waiting for my call, she’ll answer it, and then I’ll have to have a long talk with her that I don’t want to have.”

 

“Well, you have to find _some_ way of letting her know you’re alright.” Regina sipped her wine. “Otherwise, no cooking show.”

 

Emma picked up her wineglass, examining the contents like a foreign species. “She does have an answering machine.”

 

***

 

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve done in thirty years,” Regina said, typing in Mary-Margaret’s number. Obviously, she didn’t keep it on speed-dial.

 

“Are we not counting putting this town in this world in the first place?” Emma asked. She had Mary-Margaret’s number typed in, but not dialed.

 

“We’ve been over that—“

 

“No, no, I get it, but out of all the possible alternate worlds, you picked _here_? Why not Star Trek?”

 

“Well, at the time, Ronald Reagan was President, it seemed like you people had a good thing going. And Star Trek’s not an alternate universe, Emma, it’s a fictional story.”

 

“Sure thing. I’ll let Bo Peep know.”

 

“Not every story is an alternate universe.”

 

“What about the Marvel universe?”

 

“That… actually is an alternate universe.”

 

Emma boggled. “ _I could’ve met Iron Man?”_

“I’m dialing.” Regina pressed send, Mary-Margaret picked up, Emma dialed herself. “Hello, Mary-Margaret, I just wanted to drop a quick line and see how you’re doing. Oh, you’re waiting for a call? This will just take a minute, it’s really important… oh, uh, I just wanted to know what you would like for Christmas?”

 

Emma paused in her own call to look at Regina, mouthing ‘ _Christmas?’_

Regina made a rude gesture. “No, I want to get you something. Yes, I’m sure you can’t ask for anything when you have such a lovely family… and political power… but there has to be something… yes, I suppose a combined gift for Henry would work… an X-Box One? Mary-Margaret, have you paid any attention to how Microsoft developed that thing? I understand he likes Halo… you let him play Halo? Mary-Margaret, those are M-rated games! No, I appreciate that it’s only shooting aliens, but it’s still violence and glamorization of the military… oh, says the woman that took over my kingdom with an army! …I _am_ over it, that doesn’t mean I can’t bring it up. I don’t have amnesia… _no,_ that was not a reference to the time I gave everyone in Storybrooke amnesia, honestly, you did that too… Well, if you want to get technical, Zelena did a lot of things… Mary-Margaret, I was not even aware you slept with Dr. Frankenstein, but really, if you’re going to sleep with someone… well, it could’ve been worse… well, you were roommates with your daughter for a long time, weren’t you? …I’m not saying you’re a lesbian, I’m not saying that, I’m just saying that you and Ariel went to that ball together and seemed very happy… well, how was I supposed to know that? …I did other things than look at you through my magic mirror, Mary-Margaret, I had a kingdom to run! And a life outside of you! …no, I have not seen you naked! …that’s not a fair question. That is _not_ —a fair— _question…_ well, he’s joined the Snow Queen’s side, so you don’t have to worry about him anymore… oh. Oh… David told you about that? …yes, it is a false impression… I was just being friendly… I’m sorry he took it as some kind of seduction, I was simply being… because he was sleeping with Kathryn, sleeping with him myself would just be overkill! …no, I befriended Kathryn later… _I don’t know,_ it was short notice… you know what I should’ve done? I should’ve put David with a man, that’s what I should’ve done. But I didn’t have Hook in Storybrooke, so… oh, _figure it out…_ I am very supportive of gay rights… Neil Patrick Harris retweeted me once! Hmm? Oh, yes, I suppose if Halo has a parental control option, then it’d be fine for Henry. But I don’t want him going on the internet unsupervised. He can play with the other children in Storybrooke, but I don’t want someone in China calling him names. Yes. Yes, that’s fine. Alright. Okay, see you soon. Bye.”

 

Regina hung up.

 

“I finished, like, two minutes ago,” Emma said.

 

Regina pointed at the phone. “ _Your_ mother.”

 

“Tell me about it.”

 

***

 

Regina let Emma wear one of her nightgowns. She had a feeling she would be asking herself why she let Emma wear one of her nightgowns.

 

“Let me guess,” Emma said, modeling it. “All this just to get me in lingerie.”

 

“It’s not lingerie. It’s a very suitable nightgown.”

 

“I feel like I should be running away from Dracula in this thing.”

 

“You don’t have to worry about him, I killed him a long time ago.”

 

Emma smiled. Regina found herself—like she’d be unable to look away from a car wreck—comparing it to Emma’s other smiles, seeing it was closer to the happier ones than the sad ones, and feeling a sense of relief.

 

“Well, Van Helsing, mind showing me to my room? Unless you want me to sleep in your bed.”

 

Regina blinked. Her mind was no longer comparing Emma’s smiles. She wasn’t sure _what_ it was doing.

 

“You know…” Emma shifted her weight between her heels. “Have that slumber party you were always talking about?”

 

“Oh yes.” Regina remembered mentioning that… somewhere between asking if Emma wanted to braid her hair, or call Robin Hood and hang up. “No, not tonight. I’m not really in the mood for ordering horror movies on pay-per-view.”

 

“We could _totally_ do that,” Emma said, bending backwards a little in a bit of a pump before coming upright. What was she doing? Regina wondered. Why was it so… cute?

 

Was she flirting? Were _they_ flirting?

 

Regina hurried to the nearest guest bedroom, getting the door for Emma. “Here is your room. It has a bed in it. You lie in the bed, you close your eyes, and you should be able to figure it out from there.”

 

Emma went to the doorway but didn’t go through. She leaned against the doorframe opposite from Regina. “Thank you.”

 

“For what? I just put up with you while going through my normal evening routine.”

 

“The TV dinners in the trash can say otherwise. You made spaghetti for me.”

 

Regina suddenly drew herself up as high as she could while regretting the decision to put on slippers instead of heels, just because she was in her own house. “You must never tell a soul.”

 

“That you made me spaghetti?”

 

“That I ate TV dinners. It was a dark time in my life. I’m not proud of myself.”

 

Emma giggled. Practically _tittered._ “ _Thank you_ for making spaghetti, _and_ hot chocolate, _and_ calling Mary-Margaret, _and_ … just being you, I guess.”

 

“I was most emphatically _not_ being me. Your heart’s still in your chest, isn’t it?”

 

“Said the woman who’s trying to save her boyfriend’s wife, just out of the goodness of her heart. Her red, glowy heart. Which are, I guess, the best kinds of hearts…”

 

“It’s black,” Regina assured her.

 

“Whip it out,” Emma told her, taking a challenging step forward. “Twenty bucks says it ain’t.”

 

Regina saw every vein in Emma’s eyes as they looked down to Regina’s chest, to her breasts, a trickle of sweat running between them…

 

“You can take my word for it,” Regina assured her. “But you are welcome. Goodnight, Miss Swan.”

 

“Goodnight, _Regina,”_ Emma needled, before leaning in to kiss Regina on the cheek.

 

Then she fled into her room and pulled the door shut.

 

“What the hell was that?” two people asked, on either side of the door.


	2. Chapter 2

The faceless man picked Emma up with ease, carrying her to the wall, pressing her against it, trapped by his solid body, his torrid kisses. Emma tried not to moan, did. She knew he was about to plunge himself into her. She grasped at his muscular back, pulled, signaling she was ready as best she could. But it never happened. She opened her eyes and _the room was going mad, alarm clock squealing, drawers opening and closing, the waste bin vomiting up wadded up tissues and crumpled papers, the ceiling fan spinning so fast it seemed about to fly apart._

Emma sat up in bed. Her power was going crazy again. She pulled her knees to her chest as it ripped into the mattress, tearing apart the sheets and sending geysers of feathers out of the mattress. Controlling this was like holding water in her hand. The tighter she squeezed, the faster it slipped through her fingers, but how could she not try to control it when it felt like she was on fire, like she was going to _explode?_

Regina came in as the carpet tore off the floorboard in swathes. “Stay back!” Emma cried, doubling her efforts to keep any harm from coming to Regina, but knowing that just made the fire burn hotter.

 

“Maybe if we were in _your_ house,” Regina said wryly, stepping into the room.

 

Emma threw out a hand to ward her off, just to warn her, and a lightning bolt was flung from her palm. Regina brought her hand up and caught it as easily as if Emma were tossing a baseball to her. She shook her hand and the lightning dissipated in flickers of static electricity.

 

“If we’re done with amateur hour…” Regina concluded, her nightgown billowing as she heedlessly stepped over the carnage, some shielding spell keeping it from touching her. Drawing her housecoat tightly around herself, she sat down on the bed. “Give me your hands.”

 

Emma reluctantly displayed them. “They’re kinda glowing.”

 

Regina reached out and took them. The power crackled, but wouldn’t go into Regina’s body. It veered off, hitting Emma’s pillow. A crash of thunder scattered that to the four winds.

 

Regina looked a little less imposing with a feather caught on her upper lip. She blew it off, still holding Emma’s hands. “Now,” she said firmly, “we’re going to merge our magicks. Just like we’ve done before. I’ll take control of them and stop this. Alright?”

 

“Regina, what if I—if I can’t?”

 

“You can, you have, and you _will._ Focus. Feel my touch.”

 

Regina squeezed Emma’s hands, but Emma felt something else there. A chill being pushed into the joints of her fingers, the center of her palms. It wasn’t a bad cold. It guttered the fire, ice water flowing up her veins, her arms—the muscles cramping, her arms twitching—wanting to rip away from Regina like she was a hot skillet Emma had touched. But Emma forced herself to hold on… the sensation not pleasant, but not _bad…_ something like ripping a Band-Aid off.

 

“Follow my voice,” Regina said gently. “Your magic, my magic. My magic, your magic.”

 

Emma felt a measure of control, _finally._ Not hers, but like she was standing on the edge of a cliff and someone was holding onto the back of her shirt. The slamming drawers slowed and stopped, the wind stopped howling (inside at least) allowing the goose down to stop eddying and settle to the floor.

 

All this power, now, in the palm of her hand. It was only the illusion of control, but it felt good. The _power_ had felt good, she’d just been so scared of not being able to control it. But for so long, in so many ways, she’d been powerless and now she could push back against anyone, anything, even Rumpelstiltskin, even the Snow Queen, she could defend herself, she could never be lost or imprisoned or hurt again…

 

“Don’t let it control you,” Regina said. Emma looked in her eyes and saw a sympathy, an understanding. Maybe sometime, years and years ago, Snow White had been a thief in the woods and Charming had been a defenseless farmer, but that was so long ago and so quickly forgotten.

 

Regina remembered what it’d been like to be powerless. And as far away as she’d gone from the prison, Emma still _lived_ there—like a guest room in her mind that she slept in sometimes, for no reason at all. It was still in her, remembered like it was yesterday.

 

But that wasn’t who she was and that wasn’t who Regina was. Emma felt that chill drawing on her power, opening a hole in her walls, and she pushed at it. A little of her power at first, but Regina smiled encouragingly, saying she could take it, and Emma gave her all she could. Let the magic burn out of her body, into Regina, and even the Evil Queen was taken aback, teeth grinding together, eyes tightly shut, head thrown back as Emma saw her pulse and throb with power.

 

“Regina!” She nearly broke the connection. Even though it hurt, even though it was like trying to save a broken dam by sticking her finger in a hole, Emma held back all the power she could. “Are you…”

 

“I’m fine…” Regina swallowed. “Damn, it’s been a while… you’re more powerful than I gave you credit for.”

 

“Everyone underestimates me,” Emma joked weakly. “It’s the hair.”

 

Regina was sweating. Emma tried to remember the last time she’d seen her sweat. When Greg had tortured her, maybe? “Give it to me. I can take it.”

 

Emma felt it again—like at the police station, that feeling that she was exploding, she was a bomb and her shell just hadn’t been ripped apart yet. She pushed against Regina’s stolid palms, feeling the power lance into her, quicken, rush, release, the magic lightning inside the stormcloud of Regina’s skin and there was still more, so much more, Emma didn’t know how Regina could take it all, only that Regina was suddenly taking Emma in her arms, hoisting her off the bed, ramming her into the wall—her thigh was between Emma’s legs, Jesus—and Regina slammed her palm flat on the window next to them, _moaned_ like a porn star as the power flowed from her.

 

The window glass actually steamed up, being used as a conduit, and Emma folded against Regina’s body and Regina nearly collapsed onto her as well, but managed to hold Emma up with her body as the magic burned and raged and was finally gone.

 

Punch-drunk, panting, Regina hobbled with Emma to the bed, where they both collapsed on what was left of the mattress. Emma looked over at Regina. Regina was looking up at the cracked ceiling. Then Emma looked out the window.

 

The moon was purple.

 

“You made the moon… purple?”

 

Regina took a deep breath. “It seemed safer than moving it.”

 

“And it is your favorite color.”

 

Regina nodded, an easy, quickly dispelled smile on her face. “The color of royalty.”

 

“I didn’t… know it could be like that. Was that what it was like when you and Rumpel…”

 

“Don’t be disgusting.” With a groan, Regina grabbed hold of a fractured bedpost and worked herself up to a sit. “I am _not_ cleaning this up, by the way.”

 

“I’ll take care of it.”

 

“And I’ll need a check to replace the furniture, the carpets…” The ceiling fan fell down, smashing through some floorboards. “ _That._ ”

 

“I’ll ask Mary-Margaret for an advance on my allowance. But it’s done now, right?” Emma found herself with a contagious grin. “I’m not… dangerous? I can go back—“

 

“Certainly not. You may have burned off a certain excess of energy, but it will return, and you still have precious little idea how to control. In fact, it seems like you’ve forgotten what little you already know.”

 

As sore as her body was, as drained as she felt, Emma was not lying on her back for this conversation. “Give me a break, the Snow Queen—“

 

“You’re a rider who fell off the horse. Now you’re afraid to get back on. Unfortunately, unless the horse is ridden, it will run free, stomping over everything in its path.”

 

Emma held up a finger. “That’s… actually an okay metaphor.”

 

“Don’t feel bad.” Regina stood. “I’m… not exactly proficient in light magic either. This is new territory for me as well.”

 

“But you just…”

 

“There are certain laws that govern all magic. Unfortunately, I’ve specialized in dark magic for a very long time. This is like trying to speak English after a lifetime of speaking German, just because both are Germanic languages.”

 

“Wha—?”

 

Regina shook her head. “Never mind. It’s time we both deal with our powers. I suppose I’ve been putting it off as well; still relying on throwing fireballs even when it’s not that conductive to my… to what Henry’s asked of me. Well, if I’m going to learn, I might as well learn with you.”

 

Emma snapped her fingers. “Like a support group.”

 

“More like me laughing as you fail to grasp what’s blindingly obvious to me.”

 

“Oh. I can see how that would be encouraging as well. But I’ll have you know I was a very good student before I dropped out of high school.”

 

“Then why’d you—“

 

“I’m too cool for school, Gina.”

 

Regina rolled her eyes. Another chunk of plaster descended from the ceiling, hitting one of the fallen fan’s blades. “We’ll start in the morning. For now, come with me. Obviously, you can’t sleep here.”

 

“I don’t know—it has a certain ‘rock band trashing the hotel’ ambiance. If I could just find a mud shark for my vagina…”

 

Regina blinked. “Well, I… not to judge you, but perhaps you shouldn’t share your particular tastes…”

 

“That was a joke.”

 

“Ah. And the high school drop-out thing?” Regina asked hopefully.

 

“You’re just going to have to wonder about the mother of your child having a GED.”

 

Regina sighed, sure now that Emma’s spirits had lifted back to those of her usual annoying level. “Come along.”

 

Emma wincingly got to her feet. “How many guest rooms do you have, anyway? I could see myself burning through a couple of these—“

 

“You won’t. Since I’m the only one who can handle it if your power grows out of control again, you’ll be sleeping with me.”

 

“With…” Emma’s mind paused to double-check every syllable of the sentence she’d just heard. “You?”

 

Regina looked back at her from the doorway, eyes alight. “What’s the matter, Emma? I thought you wanted to have a sleepover.”


	3. Chapter 3

“What do you think you’re doing?”

 

Emma froze, the covers pulled back on her half of the bed. “Going to bed?” she replied quizzically, giving Regina one of her ‘I’m talking to a fairy tale’ looks.

 

Regina’s hands locked on her hips. “You really intend to drag your shabby clothes all over my pristine sheets?”

 

“Kinda how sleeping works, Gina.”

 

“Remove them,” Regina ordered. “Assuming you’ve bathed recently—“

 

“ _I have._ ”

 

“—then at least you won’t pollute my good sheets too much. I may be able to settle for just vacuuming them a little.”

 

Emma shot Regina a fierce look that slowly gave way to intimidation. “Alright… if that… helps…”

 

Hands trembling a little, she reached down to the bottom of her shirt…

 

***

 

Regina’s eyes opened wide. She felt slick and overwarm and a bit naked. Usually she couldn’t remember her dreams; that would be a mercy right about then. Had she really dreamed herself acting like a dimestore dominatrix, telling Emma she’d have to ‘pay’ if she wanted to sleep in her bed? She had—indulged herself with some pornographic works after breaking up with Robin. Perhaps they really did rot your mind, exactly as she’d always told Henry.

 

Suddenly, she realized Emma was right next to her, just… lying in bed, checking her phone. Regina pulled the sheets up to her neck. Not that she was embarrassed of her nipples being hard; it was just something that happened in the morning.

 

“Ms. Swan,” she said caustically, “perhaps when you sleep in your own bed you can lie around until noon, but when you’re in mine, you can leave at a dignified hour.”

 

“Says the woman going through a break-up. Shouldn’t you be in pajamas twenty-four-seven, eating ice cream and knocking back wine?”

 

“Please. I’m more proactive than that.”

 

“Really? I just kinda assumed that’s what you were doing all day while you were ‘sequestered’.” Emma got out of bed, still wearing the cancer fundraiser shirt Regina had given her. Her clothes had dried off before her magic went out of control, and she’d put her panties back on, taken her pants off. As she stooped to get the jeans Regina had given her…

 

Regina wasn’t looking. She was not looking. “If you must know, I was looking for the author of the book.”

 

“Henry’s book?”

 

“No, the book that Henry—“ Regina realized belatedly that Emma hadn’t made a stupid comment. “Yes. It sees me only as the villain; gives me only bad endings. I figure I’ll find whoever has such a one-dimensional view of me and ask, nicely, for a revision.”

 

Emma bounced into her jeans. “You think the book actually physically controls destiny or whatever?”

 

“It is magic.”

 

“So your plan is, essentially, find God and slap Him around until he gives you a man?”

 

Regina’s eyes narrowed to their Emma-levels. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

 

“No, no, you’re right, it’s a good plan. I mean, I’m really mad about 9/11, I’m gonna find Wolf Blitzer and shake him until he takes that back.”

 

Regina sat up. “It’s easy for you to talk when you have _everything_ —“

 

“I thought you were taking responsibility for your actions,” Emma interrupted. Actually _interrupted_ her. “Now you’re going to blame it all on some book?”

 

“It’s a very mean book!” Regina stressed.

 

They stared at one another. All of a sudden, they were laughing.

 

***

 

“’It’s a very mean book,’” Emma repeated over breakfast.

 

Regina hid a smile, serving Emma her pancakes. She enjoyed cooking for people, and if nothing else, Emma’s endless appetite offered her a good target. Between the two of them, they’d gone through smoked sausage patties, waffles, omelets, oatmeal, orange juice, coffee, French toast, and of course, bacon,

 

“I don’t sound like that,” Regina insisted. She’d magicked up Emma a quick wardrobe, figuring that at least this way, the mother of her child would dress in a halfway decent manner. Emma had accepted a very becoming side-panel, button-top James Perse in white, but insisted on keeping the jeans Regina had loaned her. When Regina pointed out that she’d worn them the night before, Emma had said that she’d worn clothes for longer.

 

Apparently, some of Henry’s habits were genetic.

 

“So what’s the plan, highness?” Emma sipped her coffee and made an appreciative noise Regina found most satisfying. “How do two confirmed badasses learn lovey-dovey light magic? After all, I can’t just sleep in your bed for the rest of my life.”

 

Regina glanced at her. “I’ve contacted an old friend. She’ll be coming over shortly.”

 

“You’re old friends with a lot of light magic users?”

 

“Just the one.”

 

***

 

“It is so good to see both of you deciding to learn light magic!” Tinkerbell cheered. “It really is the best of the magicks. Still magic, doesn’t cause you turn into a dragon or wear all black!”

 

Emma stood in Regina’s backyard with the other two women, trying to focus on Tink’s teachings over an inner voice that screamed at her to take the fairy’s lunch money. Tink went on for fifteen minutes, describing the academia of light magic. It felt like a Hogwarts lesson if you weren’t Hermione. Emma got the impression that it boiled down to ‘happy thoughts = flight’.

 

“Now,” Tink clapped her hands, “why don’t we give it a try? Just hold onto a good memory in your heart and let that inform your casting, as we try to pick an apple off Regina’s tree!”

 

“Sounds kinda dirty when you say it like that,” Emma stage-whispered to Regina, who obligingly said “Ha ha” in a snide, too-cool-for-school way.

 

That was okay. Emma had seen the Snuggie in her wardrobe.

 

Tink focused on Emma. “Emma, if you would like to go first?”

 

Emma cracked her neck and faced the apple tree. Happy memory, happy memory—the first time Henry had called her Mom and really meant it, she’d been able to tell…

 

An apple went flying.

 

“It must be easier than it looks,” Regina commented.

 

Tink’s little hands folded together. “Regina, if you’d like to go?”

 

“With pleasure. I have plenty of happy memories. Just one of my orgies should be enough to keep me rolling in light magic…”

 

Emma gave Tink a look. The fairy shook her head.

 

Regina took a strong stance, set her shoulders, reached out with her hand, and—nothing happened.

 

She set her hand in mid-air harder. More nothing happened.

 

Clenching her teeth, Regina gestured brusquely. The apple exploded.

 

“Regina!” Tink cried in dismay. “That’s dark magic!”

 

“You can’t know that for sure,” Regina protested, brushing a chunk of apple out of her hair.

 

Tink’s cell phone rang. She checked it. “I have to take this. Emma, you’re new to this as well, perhaps you’d do better at explaining it to Regina.”

 

Regina was set on the cell phone Tink had. “Is that a _boy_?”

 

“Never you mind!” She hastened off as Emma crossed beside Regina.

 

“It’s weird I forgot you’re besties with a fairy. Alright then, guess I have to be the Regina Whisperer again.”

 

“I don’t appreciate that film. Horses are very intelligent creatures. They don’t need to be ‘whispered’ to!”

 

“Uh-huh. Listen, Gina, my happy thought was Henry—“

 

“Not one of your many suitors?” Regina asked, evincing surprise.

 

Emma gave her an unamused look. “I’ve only had Henry for… months. He’s been with you for years. You should have loads of happy memories.”

 

“Hard to see them sometimes.” Regina focused on an apple. Just sitting there on the branch… “You keep going back to a memory, over and over again, it fades like colors in a wash. You’re supposed to make new memories, not obsess over the old ones.”

 

“Then new memories. You’ve got Henry, Robin… me.”

 

Regina looked over at her. “You?”

 

“Well, we moved the moon together. That’s gotta be a little satisfying… maybe just on a professional level?”

 

Emma could look entirely too much like a sad puppy sometimes.

 

“You…” Regina muttered, staring at the apple. She was surprised when Emma embraced her from behind.

 

No, Emma was just reaching around her, putting her hand on Regina’s heart. “Here. It starts here, you feel it. Let your mind wander to something that makes you smile. Just let the thought pop into your head…”

 

_I invited her._

Emma’s scent was oddly woodsy, not perfume, not any perfume Regina had ever heard of. It was clearly cultivated somehow. Emma didn’t just _smell_ like that. Some kind of cologne, maybe?

 

_But maybe we are._

Emma’s hand was soft.

_Including you._

Why did she have to be standing so close, anyway? Regina was trying to concentrate.

_Or maybe even special._

“Okay, I’ve got a… decent… memory,” Regina admitted begrudgingly.

 

“I know it’s totally lame,” Emma said with an eye-roll, “but do you feel it warming the cockles of your heart or whatever?”

 

“Oh yes. My cockles are very warm.”

 

“Okay, then you just—“ Emma moved her fingers over Regina’s chest, skirting the top of her breast, to lead her touch to Regina’s shoulder, “move the warmth into your arms, then down to your fingers, then _out…”_

_You thought we were friends?_

The apple neatly plucked itself from the tree, hovering in mid-air. Regina thought and it skated over to them, right into Regina’s outstretched hand.

 

“I told you it was easy,” Regina said.

 

***

 

Tink came back from her call saying that she had to go, someone would be along to pick her up soon. Regina wasn’t going to waste all those apples, so she sent Emma inside to slice them up for a nice cobbler. She waited with Tink on the front walk.

 

“You’re a very lucky woman,” Tink said, apropos of nothing.

 

Regina’s scoff was about the most instinctual thing she’d ever done. “I don’t want to know what Lifetime movies you’ve watched to compare me to.”

 

“Oh, sure, you’ve had your ups and downs, but to find another one _…_ there are some people who never find theirs. I’ll save my pity for them. You have three. I’m just going to be happy for you.”

 

It was amazing, after how long they’d known each other, Tink could still talk such utter nonsense that Regina couldn’t begin to understand her. “You lived in that jungle for too long. You’re practically speaking in tongues.”

 

“Soulmates, Regina. I’m so glad you’ve found another one.”

 

Regina looked at Tink as coolly as she ever had. “Robin’s married. Perhaps you should’ve told him about this ‘soulmate’ business sometime during the engagement.”

 

“Not him. Emma.”

 

It was good for Regina to know she could still enjoy a good laugh. “Robin’s my soulmate. You said it yourself. And of course my soulmate would be a married man, that just fits—“

 

“I never said you had only one soulmate. What did you think Daniel was? Regina, a true love isn’t any less true just because you love someone else.”

 

“So… what… you’re telling me that me and Emma are destined to be… best friends?”

 

Tink smiled wanly. “You’ll see.”

 

“I think your pixie dust has gone bad. Does that stuff have an expiration date?”

 

A car was pulling up to the curb. “That’s my ride,” Tink said.

 

“Emma Swan is not my bestie!” Regina swore. “We’re… pals at best! We’re really more acquaintances than anything else!”

 

“Good day, Regina,” Tink nodded. “Have fun.”

 

“I will have fun,” Regina stressed. “On my own. I don’t need Emma to have fun!”

 

***

 

“What are you wearing?”

 

Emma froze, the covers pulled back on her half of the bed. “Pajamas?” she replied quizzically, giving Regina one of her ‘I’m talking to a fairy tale’ looks.

 

Regina’s hands locked on her hips. “I don’t think an ivory silk-satin playsuit from Black Label would count as ‘pajamas’.”

 

Emma adjusted one of the shoulder straps self-consciously. It was a somewhat scant nightie, layered to give the impression of being two pieces, the hem coming down to mid-thigh, the neckline not coming close to her collarbone. “Well, I know how you’re all classy and sh… stuff, you like everything to have a certain style—“

 

“God, you make me sound like Nathan Lane—“

 

“So I thought, as long as we’re sleeping together, I should wear something… becoming!” Emma paused. “I probably shouldn’t call it us sleeping together, should I?”

 

“I prefer to think of it as ‘me being on vigilant guard against you blowing up the house.’”

 

“Yes, that sounds a lot better than snoring.”

 

“I do not snore!”

 

Emma slid into bed. “If we’re done discussing my pajamas?”

 

“Your lingerie, you mean.”

 

“Yes, fine, whatever. I’m a fallen woman, this is the uniform of my shame. It’s not like you’re wearing a chastity belt either, highness.”

 

Regina grimaced. “My nightgown is very appropriate. It leaves everything to the imagination.”

 

“Yeah, some people have active imaginations.”

 

Regina blinked.

 

“Not me, of course. I’m just saying, you know, if Robin or somebody saw you in that, they’d be thinking—‘gee, what’s under there? I don’t know!’”

 

Regina blinked again.

 

“I’m not gay. I have a pirate.”

 

Regina pulled back the sheets on her side of the bed. “Perhaps you should sleep on a way to make this arrangement feel even more awkward.”

 

Emma turned away from her to fluff her pillow. “Hey, I’m not a lesbian, you’re not a lesbian, we can wear whatever lingerie we want to bed with each other—“

 

“I’m not wearing lingerie!”

 

Emma turned around. “You took off your—oh. You’re counting those as pajamas.”

 

“You thought I--? And your first thought was to _turn around_?”

 

“I… wanted to see if you had any tattoos.”

 

Regina put her hands on her hips. “Three.”

 

“What?”

 

“Three.”

 

Emma’s eyes scanned over Regina’s body. “I don’t see—“

 

“That’s right. You don’t. So unless you think we should both sleep in the nude…” She got into bed.

 

Emma smoothed out her playsuit. “Maybe we should both just wear flannel.”

 

“Yes. That will keep people from thinking we’re lesbians.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emma's 'lingerie': http://www.net-a-porter.com/gb/en/product/537433


	4. Chapter 4

Secretly, Regina loved it when Henry crawled into bed with her. As ridiculous as it was, she had the thought of a liquid pillow that held to her instead of the other way around. Seeking her power, curling up into her arms so tight it was like he wanted to burrow into her, use her as a shield against the night. Well, Regina’s armor had been used for worse things.

 

Sleepily, Regina put her arms around the soft little bundle of warmth that’d lunged against her. He was getting big, but he still had the absolute need for that he’d shown as an infant.

 

Henry’d woken her up plenty of nights, screaming in his crib, but always calmed right down as soon as she picked him up. She didn’t even mind having her sleep disturbed; not when she felt the absolute _trust_ of him. The certainty that she wouldn’t set anything on fire, turn something to poison. It was almost frightening, that trust. Hard to live up to.

 

But she had for years before Henry came into her life and she had for years after. No one ever appreciated that. How she’d been satisfied with her vengeance. She’d set a sentence for the people’s crimes against her, it’d been fair and just, and she’d carried it out without excess or sadism. Her right as ruler. Not that anyone but her would care about so pedantic a thing, but oh well. She knew she was right.

 

She reached between Henry’s shoulder blades to rub at his spine, letting him know he was safe and guarded, and felt soft bands of hair where there should’ve been just pajamas. Regina’s hazy eyes blinked a little wider open. It wasn’t Henry. It was his birth mother.

 

Emma had finagled her way into Regina’s arms, just as her son so often did. Seeking the same thing. Her warmth, her comfort in the nightmarish dark.

 

Regina actually stopped herself from waking her. She was so used to the sight of Emma with furrowed brow, big confused eyes or angry, narrowed vision. Her mouth set in a grimace, her smile ever so slightly wounded, everything defensive, a poker player’s game-face.

 

In her arms, Regina could see Emma’s resemblance to her mother. A certain peacefulness. A serenity that Regina hadn’t exactly yearned for, but had on occasion been… curious about. Was it the natural state of the Snow women? Something in Emma that had been cut out of her by Regina’s actions, but that was now regrowing?

 

Regina reached over and stole Emma’s pillow. It wasn’t like she’d be needing it, with her head tucked under Regina’s arm. This was what came of buying such an exquisitely tasteful nightgown. Even someone of Emma’s stature found herself drawn to it.

 

Then, with Emma tucked next to her, Regina closed her eyes and skirted the edge of sleep, waking roughly an hour later to a jolt in Emma’s body and mumbled, muffled “Wha the fu?” that was more like a snort than words.

 

Just how Regina had always imagined a princess waking up.

 

Emma reared her head, blonde hair instantly whirlpooling into a mophead. “Was I sleeping on you? Were you _letting_ me sleep on you?”

 

Regina did her best to look regal, reclining on her three pillows. “We don’t get along at the best of times. I was simply thinking of you without your sleep.”

 

“Me? You’re the one from the universe without coffee—which explains a lot, now that I think about it…” Emma rolled off Regina, who she’d still been mostly… cuddling. “Does something smell good to you?” she asked, hitting Ctrl-Alt-Delete on the entire subject.

 

“Not you, certainly.” Regina slid out of bed, grabbing up her morning gown and lacing it around her slender form.

 

There _was_ a rather piquant smell about: eggs, bacon, sausage, and a dash of fresh-roasted coffee. Regina wondered if Robin had snuck in to fix her breakfast. It’d been half a week since he’d told her he needed to stay with his wife, after all; the man may have been Prince of Thieves, but he was the King of Mixed Messages.

 

Behind her, Emma scratched herself, tugged her ‘lingerie’ into a somewhat more modest configuration. Then followed Regina into the kitchen, where Ingrid was just adding some pepper to the eggs in the skillet.

 

“Emma! Good, you’re up. Did you sleep well?”

 

Emma raised her hand, wishing she could conjure up some impressive looking fireball or lightning or sparks, but settling for a clenched fist. “You’d better back off right now or I swear—“

 

“You’ll what? Blow a hole in your own kitchen?” Ingrid smiled fondly at Emma’s stupidity, like she was a dog that’d made a tiny mess.

 

“She’s right,” Regina said, supportive as usual. She forced Emma to lower her hand. “What do you want, Ice Queen?”

 

“Snow Queen,” Ingrid corrected gently. “And I want exactly what you want. For our sweet Emma to be safe and happy.”

 

Regina reared back. She’d been accused of many things in her time. This was new. “’Our Emma?’”

 

“It’s alright,” Ingrid said, getting them both plates and piling them high with breakfast. “I realize I come from a land that was somewhat… medieval, but I think you’ll find I’m quite sensible about such things. Just as I am with your child out of wedlock, Emma. And you’re welcome to keep the both of them, my sweet girl. Tell me, is there anyone who Elsa cares for, someone we should spare?”

 

“ _We’re not together,”_ Emma said.

 

“Oh?” Ingrid asked, full of good humor. “And I suppose when I checked in on the two of you to find you asleep in such a darling little puddle, that was just a man in a wig that I mistook for a woman? That he snuck out while I wasn’t looking and, coincidentally enough, now both of you have shown up for breakfast at the same time? I was quite confused about all the little looks between you two—the private little smiles—but now that I _know,_ I couldn’t be happier! Emma, you have made such a wonderful match!”

 

“Emma,” Regina said, trying to get her attention to no avail with the blonde laser-focused on Ingrid.

 

“I’m not gay!” Emma insisted.

 

“Okay, bi.”

 

“You’re leaving already?”

 

Regina rolled her eyes. “Emma…”

 

“Even if I were gay, I mean, Regina’s… she’s… like, okay, she’s attractive, and Henry likes her, and she has a job and a house and awe-inspiring magical power…”

 

“Emma!”

 

“But she, uh, she… she’s very high-maintenance! Yes! Even if I were gay, I wouldn’t be gay for such a Type-A.”

 

“ _Emma!”_

“What?” Emma demanded as she turned around. “You’re totally Type-A! You’re the most Type-A person since Katherine Heigl!”

 

“’Controlling’ comes with being _Queen,”_ Regina said as her hand dove into Emma’s chest, her grip sure, undefeatable as the warmth of Emma’s flesh was invaded by cold fingers, ice growing over her heart, pulling, ripping it free. But it came out all at once, like it was jumping into Regina’s hand, and Emma didn’t feel a jot of pain as Regina’s hand came back with Emma’s pulsing, glowing heart clasped in its palm.

 

Emma would’ve expected more darkness on it.

 

Ingrid reacted more than Emma. “No!” she cried shrilly, stepping forward, then stopping like she’d run into an invisible wall. Regina had tightened her grip.

 

Emma barely felt it, a tightness in her chest—she didn’t feel anything, really. She thought of Henry, Mary-Margaret, Hook, David, Neal… it was like she was solving math problems. All the connections were still there, they just didn’t carry any power through them.

 

“ _Snow Queen,”_ Regina sneered, her haughtiness barely concealed, her disdain running rampant. “You’re not royalty. You’ve never _ruled_. You’re a pretender to the throne. I could sniff it in you. And, like the foolish little thing that you are, you’ve gone around broadcasting your weakness for all to hear. Emma and Elsa, your two sisters.” Regina said it in a mincing, mocking tone. “I know you plan on winning Emma’s heart, but how _will_ you do that when it’s _ashes_ running through my _fingers_?”

 

“You wouldn’t… she’s your lover!”

 

Sweeping into the kitchen, Regina picked up a slice of bacon with her other hand. “Emma, tell her the truth.” Then she took a bite.

 

“We’re not lovers,” Emma said, like she was at a spelling bee and Regina had asked her to spell a word. “Regina’s just letting me stay with her while she teaches me to control her magic.”

 

Regina gulped, licking her lips clean of grease. “There you have it. Emma means nothing to me. So, _Ingrid,_ you can surrender or your new sister can share the fate of your old ones.”

 

Ingrid gritted her teeth hatefully. “Even if she’s not your lover, she’s still a princess, a hero! You wouldn’t just kill her!”

 

“Emma Swan? The person who ended my Curse, stole my son, accused me of murder, and has generally made my life a living hell since she first came to my perfect little town? Oh, please Ingrid; _give me an excuse!_ I’d love to kill the dumb bitch. And this way, I can tell everyone it was you! So please, do test me. _Or:_ you can surrender.”

 

Ingrid’s hands dropped to her sides. “I suppose there’s a reason I’m the Snow Queen… and you’re the _Evil_ Queen.”

 

Regina took one great step forward, slamming her free hand between Ingrid’s breasts, grabbing hold of her heart, and giving it a mighty tug. It came free with a lurching motion that nearly toppled Ingrid over. Then Regina was backing away, considering the two hearts in her hands. Ingrid’s wasn’t as black as Emma would imagine. It was spotted, like it had caught some disease, but there was still a faint glow to it. Regina pressed it into Emma’s hands; it felt warm.

 

“Don’t let go,” Regina said. Then she hefted Emma’s heart in front of her chest, like she was letting its former resting place see it, open itself. Her hand came forward gently now. It dipped into Emma’s chest slowly, as gently as Regina plant a seed in a garden. Emma felt connections being made, electricity flowing between the memories in her head and the emotions in her heart. She looked at Regina and a rush of this warmth came to her, a smile dogging her lips, a breath filling her lungs. She blinked away tears as Regina took her hand away.

 

The Queen pretended not to seen them. “Look carefully, Swan. Here’s how you do heart magic.” She raised the heart to her lips, an apple she was about to take a bite out of. “I want to go to the police station and turn myself in.”

 

Ingrid nodded and started walking. Emma watched her march right out the front door.

 

“So,” Regina said, “breakfast before it gets cold?”

 

***

 

Regina ate. Emma went to get some Zantac from the medicine cabinet, just in case having her heart get the Mortal Kombat treatment had had any side effects. Regina hadn’t even washed her hands first…

 

Then they were to the police station, where Mary-Margaret and David were quite interested in Ingrid’s more ingratiating attitude.

 

“She’s not gonna blow another hole in the wall, is she?” David asked. “We only have four of those.”

 

“That was me, remember?” Emma said. “And yeah, she means it this time. She’s not doing some lame Joker/Silva/Loki/Khan thing where she _wants_ to be caught.”

 

Regina shrugged in mild agreement. She wasn’t really feeling up to sparring with the idiots. She didn’t want to be here, with them, not with what was coming. “Without the grief and pain in her dark heart, I think you’ll find her much more reasonable. And maybe my standards are a little skewed, but I don’t think she’s done anything too bad. Except for that dress, I suppose. Ironically enough, I don’t think she’s a winter.”

 

Mary-Margaret somewhat boggled at her. “I… suppose we could offer her clemency if she brings down the wall and, uh… helps Marian.”

 

Regina spoke, but her mind was a million miles away—about as far away as it needed to be to treat with Snow White. “And I’ll work on something to keep her from being too much of a bother, even with her heart. I think the current status of happy endings in this town is ‘everyone but me,’ so maybe she’ll find some redemption after all. This town could use its ice cream shop back.”

 

Because she could feel the gears grinding away. Inside Emma’s pretty blonde head, she was wondering how much of what Regina had said was a lie. If any of it was a lie. He was thinking what if, could it be, how come. What would she do if Regina turned evil? What should she do _before_ Regina turned evil? And soon, she would be just like all the rest. Suspicious. Hateful. The cool water of her kindness had splashed into the desert of Regina’s life, and now it was burning up. Soon gone without a trace.

 

“You don’t have to pretend,” David said.

 

“Pretend what?” Regina asked, startled out of her reverie. “I really am quite bitter.”

 

“Ingrid told us about how you pretended to threaten to kill Emma…”

 

“Method acting,” Regina quipped.

 

“And about how you two were sleeping together.”

 

Regina closed her eyes. Emma inched toward the door.

 

“As it so happens,” Regina said, “Emma was just _wishing_ she could explain that to you. Since I am _not_ part of your family and _not_ dating your daughter, it has nothing to do with me, though, so I will be headed home to see if I can salvage what is left of my morning.”

 

***

 

“What are you doing here?” Regina asked, feeling a headache coming on. In fact, it was standing on her welcome mat.

 

“What on earth does it look like?” Emma replied, just as sassily, and thrust a large suitcase into Regina’s arms. “I packed ‘em up, and you’re the one with magic powers.”

 

“True. To a point.” Regina dropped the suitcase, enjoying the split-second look on Emma’s face before she levitated it with her magic. With a gesture, Regina directed it inside. “It’s over, Emma. Ingrid’s defeated. I’m sure without her influence, your magic will settle down…”

 

“I don’t want it to settle down,” Emma insisted, trudging back to her Bug for another load. She actually had a car trailer hitched behind it, full of trunks and suitcases. “I want to be able to use my magic, so the next time some loony comes after our kid or our town or _us,_ I’ll be right there with you, slinging magic like a boss.”

 

“The fact that you described your school of magic as ‘like a boss’ is giving me pause.”

 

Emma threw a suitcase at her, which Regina caught and floated inside with magic. “I’m serious. There are a whole bunch of Disney movies left and they all have villains. I’m not waiting around for the next one to show up and give us all amnesia and put a magical barrier around the town to have a training montage. I’m learning magic, and until I can Avada Kedavra a bitch, you’re stuck with me.”

 

“Do I get a say in this?” Regina asked, gesturing to start Emma’s whole luggage compartment marching into the house.

 

“None whatsoever,” Emma replied jauntily. “Consider it part of your redemption. Work-release.”

 

Regina sighed. Deeply. “I just can’t believe—“

 

“What?” Emma asked after Regina had trailed off. “That I’m being responsible? That I’m actually trying to be a good student here? C’mon, Coach, wake me up at dawn, make me drink raw eggs, have me do push-ups while you sit on my back, I can take it! Only don’t do any of those things, the raw egg thing in particular sounds gross.”

 

Regina stared her in the eye. “I can’t believe that you want to _stay_ here after what I said.”

 

“Said?”

 

“To Ingrid! I told her I wanted to kill you! That you ruined my life and that I hated you and—“

 

“You were just making all that up. Bluffing.”

 

“ _How do you know that?_ You didn’t ask me once.”

 

Emma walked right up to Regina, standing directly on the welcome mat as Regina faced her from the doorway. “I don’t need to _ask._ I know how you feel about me.”

 

Regina eyed her.

 

“I said we’re friends and I meant it. _We’re friends._ And you promised to teach me how to go through a day without setting anyone on fire, so I’m holding you to that! Not setting people on fire, that’s one of my best social skills…”

 

Emma moved to pass Regina, but Regina thrust her arm out, blocking Emma’s way through the door.

 

“You can’t.”

 

“Can’t what, Regina?” Emma’s voice didn’t crack, didn’t fall, but it stayed far too even to be anything but a poker face. “Can’t what?”

 

“This… If you’re my friend, _you’re my friend._ You don’t get to take it back. Understand me? You cannot betray me again, you cannot accuse me of something, you cannot think the worst of me. And I know…”

 

Regina’s voice was shrill, her throat hoarse, she didn’t know why, it wasn’t like she’d been _shouting,_ just like she’d wanted to shout for so long, the words were shouts inside her, but they came out in barely a whisper.

 

“ _I know_ that’s not fair, I know you _shouldn’t_ trust me, but as stupid and unreasonable as it is, _that’s what I’m asking._ We don’t have to be friends. We can go back to being… people. But if you want to be my friend, you have to always see me like this. The way you’re looking at me now.” (God, Emma didn’t even know how much it hurt to have her looking at Regina like that. _)_ “It’s mine now. That trust, that friendship, _it is mine._ I don’t want it if I can’t keep it. So if you’re giving it to me… you can’t take it back.”

 

Emma took a step forward. Regina took a step back. Suddenly the blonde was standing in the door, the daylight pushing past her, turning her hair translucent, her skin into crystal.

 

Emma was not a hugger. But she decided then and there that this was going to be a great hug. She stepped into Regina’s house, grabbed Regina, pulled Regina to her and held her. Held her as long as she could, as close as she could, and though every one of her senses strained to detect Regina pulling away, to let her go before Regina was suffocated, Regina _didn’t._ She stayed right where she was, the house’s heat spilling out the open door, the sound of birds and cars trampling in, and let Emma hold her tight and rub her hand between her shoulder blades.

 

They stayed that way as the wind blew the door shut.


End file.
